I Need a Doctor
by SawManiac211
Summary: In life, the Master never wanted to be saved...in death, all he wants is him.


_It's a feeling that makes him sick, sick to the core of his being – if he'd still had one, that is. It twists his insides and he screams silently into the dark, trying to find something real to hold onto. It was a weird feeling, like floating and falling and moving and staying still all at the same time. It was like a giant hand was gently pulling at him like putty; stretching but never breaking. He closes his eyes and –_

__

_He moans, a sound that never escapes his lips as there's no voice-box to emit it, and remembers the reason why he feels like this. He always forgets, every single time he reaches out. His mind, once so sharp, is now so unpredictable that he can never predict when the floodgates are going to open and the memories are going to –_

__

_Even in death he tortures him, plays with him; there are so many more faces of the same man which are lost in the howling winds of this emptiness, this nothingness which he has damned himself to, to save the man who has rubbed his face in the dirt countless times and yet always offered his hand afterwards. It was this hand he'd rejected so many times out of pointless pride, out of spite to wound the owner of this hand in the moment of his triumph; this time, however, he was leaving him sprawled in the dust, and he had only himself to blame. The knowledge makes the feeling worse; it crushes his chest making it impossible to breathe. But he has no lungs to breathe with, and there is no air for that matter._

_He's dead. He knows that, he's not that stupid. But instead of the drums, it's HIS voice that resounds in his head, and when it's not – when he forgets what he desperately clings to – it is just silence and the howling of an impossible wind._

_And once again, for the millionth pointless time, he reaches out for that hand._

_He pushes at the boundaries of this infinite and yet so tiny and claustrophobic space, pushing with every fibre and praying to every God in the universe that this time, this time he would find the strength to hold on. He pushes until a primal scream is ripped from him, until he squeezes his eyes shut and begs for release – and then the darkness turns to light and slowly, hoping against hope, he opens his eyes._

_He's in the TARDIS. He knows it's the TARDIS, even though the interior has changed yet again, because it makes an agitated sound at his entrance, a warning of an unwanted guest. Even a machine knows to fear him, but he doesn't care anymore. He attempts to pull himself to his feet but his hand passes through the alien metal; he does not have the strength to keep pushing, to solidify himself and make himself real. It should be humiliating, lying crumpled on the floor, but it isn't. Because he's here, with him._

_He props himself up onto his elbow and watches the skinny man with the bow tie and floppy brown hair race round the console, fingers dancing over the console. Yes, this is the Doctor; but different, changed. Why can't he see that HE'S changed too? More to the point why can't the damn man see HIM? "Shh," The Doctor murmurs, stroking the TARDIS column soothingly. "It's ok. Everything's ok." He feels like crying out. Turn around, damn you! He tries to scream the words but he's weak, so weak; his grip on reality is tenuous at best, so he doesn't even try. He wants the Doctor to stroke him like that, to tell him those words, but he never turns his face to him, never sees. But maybe this time, maybe this time...he feels his grip loosening and although he feels some pride at how long he's kept going this time round the fear of being retaken to that god-forsaken realm returns and overwhelms and he reaches out a hand..._

The woman named Amy looks briefly down at the man in the rumpled suit and ruffled platinum hair, gaze fixed on the Doctor's back, arm stretched out towards him, mouth moving doesn't know who it is, but the pain in his eyes gets to her every time. She walks over to the Doctor, not making eye contact and not acknowledging this strange man that appears every now and then, despite her want to do so. "Doctor," She whispers. "He's back."

The Doctor doesn't move, but whispers back. "I know."

"Aren't you going to help him? He needs you."

"I know," The Doctor's eyes are anguished, but Amy can't see his face. "But I can't."

"Please Doctor, he needs you and..." A brief glance over her shoulder reveals the man shaking eyes tight shut. "He's fading Doctor! Please, quickly, can't you at least tell him you know he's here?"

The Doctor clutches at the TARDIS, feeling the tears ball in his throat. "Leave him. Leave him thinking that there's still hope, that he can still be saved...that's the best I can do. That's all I can ever do." And even Amy can see how much this hurts him.

_He lets out a silent cry and loses his hold; he snaps back into his lonely domain, another chance wasted. Weak, so weak...he feels himself slipping, the memories fading...he knows that it could be a minute, a million years before he remembers even who he is, and until then there will only be that feeling, that sickness he can't bring himself to name. There are tears that turn to dust and then there is nothing, and he is left spinning in the void, his last thought fading, fading into air..._

_**I'm about to lose my mind, you've been gone for so long, I'm running out of time: I need a Doctor, call me a Doctor, I need a Doctor, Doctor, to bring me back to life**_


End file.
